


My House, My Rules, Buddy

by Aevenien, Ka212



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Architect Derek Hale, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aevenien/pseuds/Aevenien, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ka212/pseuds/Ka212
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Building a house is nothing like Stiles expected. Derek is surprised too, and he does it for living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What do we start with?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissBlack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBlack/gifts).



> This is a gift for our amazing friend, Miss Black. We can only hope that you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing.  
> We totally meant to write you awesome Fred-and-George style wishes here but... well. It's five minutes until midnight, so let us say simply: Happy Birthday, darling!
> 
> It's also our first fic written together and English is not our first language, so HUGE thanks to Marit for beta!

Chaos and Stiles were always buddies, but this? This spiraled right the fuck out of control, more than any other idea he's ever had. It started innocently enough, during a discussion with Scott about the merits of some games over others, about what makes a good game, ones that they would really love to play. And okay, maybe he got a little invested in it. He just liked... Thinking about it, sometimes (most of the time) and if somewhere along the way he developed a whole universe with werewolves, hunters, kanimas, a whole freakin’ Halloween party every full moon... Well, it didn't really mean anything, did it. It was just a game, or not even that; an idea for a game. 

Scott loved it, sure. He's been Stiles' best friend for the last 18 years or so, _of course_ he loved it. Jackson, on the other hand, was nowhere near being his best friend so when he said that the idea was awesome... It was literally the first time Stiles heard him using that word. Until then he wasn't even sure if Jackson _knew_ what awesome meant. Yeah, looking back, that should have been a red light.

But Stiles just mocked Jackson about it a bit and didn't really think anything of it, even when Jackson shared the idea with Danny. Who, of course, was a programmer. 

It ought to have failed, really, one programmer versus enthusiasm, flail and definitely too many weird ideas. 

But then - then it wasn't just one programmer anymore because somehow all the guys in Danny's flat seemed to get caught up in it and suddenly Stiles was getting texts in the middle of the night from unfamiliar numbers, asking about details of the game, and people he never talked to before were popping in to discuss different solutions for locations. 

It looked like the game became this huge collective project, which grew happily, through wild fights and spontaneous bursts of creativity, under Danny's unofficial supervision - and much to Stiles' gleeful wonder. 

There were sleepless nights and coffee, and alcohol, and endless phone calls with Danny, Scott and even Jackson, and what did it say about Stiles' life if he could spend an hour on the phone with Jackson of all the people? 

Allison was the only person who publically refused to hear a word about the game; she claimed that she was already fed up with Scott babbling about it all the time, and that she knew all the details anyway because her stupid husband was shouting into the phone like a five year old that he was. 

Stiles wasn't fooled: she had to be the driving force behind some of the ideas which Scott put forward. And she totally lost her temper in that three-days discussion about whether or not vampires should be in the game (and wouldn't it be hilarious if they sparkled). 

The thing is, it _worked_. It was rough and basic, and the graphics were... Well, it was a wonder that there were any graphics at all. But it worked and people loved it, and when one day somebody came and said, _hey, I know a person who's interested in this game of yours_ , Stiles wasn't sure if he could muster any more surprise. 

Months later, holding a box with the freshly released game, all he could think was, _damn, it's all Jackson's fault, I should have totally seen it coming._

(It sold, okay. It sold damn well, second only to The Sims. It was pretty terrifying.)

*** 

“So what are you going to do now?” Scott opens his second bottle of beer and gets more comfortable on Stiles' couch. 

“Dude, I have no idea, my life is so crazy the word crazy is not enough anymore.”

“But you’re not going to move to Hawaii or Australia, right? Christmas is coming!”

“Please, what would I do on Hawaii without you guys! I’d probably fall into the ocean and a shark would eat me.”

Scott laughs, almost spilling his beer.

“You know, you could buy a house.”

“What?”

“A house! Here, in Beacon Hills. We could meet for Christmas and summer there, do Mario Kart marathons, watch Lord of the Rings on the biggest screen ever and order all the pizza in the world.”

Stiles thinks about it for a moment and he can actually see that: an enormous couch in the living room, half eaten boxes of pizza, a fucking plasma on the wall. Lydia and Jackson sitting in one corner of the couch, he and Danny next to them and Scott and Allison curled up on a loveseat, all of them watching a movie, the sequel to the Amazing Spiderman or something. Jackson keeps throwing popcorn at him until one piece gets in Lydia’s hair and Jackson goes very still, hoping she won't notice, but of course she does, and then Lydia is moving to seat next to Stiles and Jackson is looking at him as if it was Stiles' fault that the high school lacrosse captain can’t throw a piece of popcorn... 

Suddenly, he wants it to happen. Hell, now, with all the money from the game, he could probably _make it happen_.

Scott beams at him.

“You totally should give me a room in this house, Allison keeps throwing away my stuff! Remember that huge poster with Batman and Robin you gave me like ten years ago? She made me move it to the basement!”

Stiles snaps out of his thoughts.

“No!”

“Yes! She said something about how it doesn’t fit into our bedroom. I love her, but dude, my Batman poster!”

"Batman is sacred! We will have _all the posters_. We can build him an altar. Maybe a statue in the bathroom. And there should be a pool, too," he adds, because pools are freaking awesome and now he wants one.

“Allison loves to swim!”

Stiles just rolls his eyes, more out of habit than anything else; of course that's what Scott would say. A pool it is, then.

***

“You’re building a house,” Lydia says instead of hello and Stiles knows he’s in trouble. As if the phone call at 8 AM wasn't indication enough; Lydia knows how much of a morning person he isn't and she doesn't call unless she has a good reason or just _really_ wants to annoy him.

“Care to explain to me why I have to get to know about it from Scott?”

“Huh.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? I want a room.”

“What?”

“A room, Stiles. You honestly don’t expect me to sleep on a couch, do you? And I need somewhere quiet to write my thesis.”

“You want a room in my house, which doesn’t exist even on paper yet, to write your thesis in peace?” Stiles is kind of struck, because yesterday he was drinking beer with Scott and jokingly fantasizing about building a house, but now Lydia wants a room… And apparently he is actually _building a house_. Knowing Lydia, sooner rather than later. Like, tomorrow.

He hears an impatient huff on the other side.

“A room, yeah, okay?” Because what else could he say, really.

“Perfect! I made you an appointment with an architect, today at 9 am, I’ll text you the address.”

And she hangs up on him. Stiles stares at his phone for full three minutes. What has just happened? 

***

Stiles always knew Lydia was evil but this is too much. Stiles is sure the architect she chose has to be the best (how many architects are there in Beacon Hills anyway?), but he is equally sure that when Lydia googled him, a very familiar smirk must have appeared on her face, because the guy is smoking hot. Intimidating levels of hot. Not only is he exactly Stiles' type (and yes, over the years Stiles and Lydia drifted onto the topic of men they liked more than once, usually when they were both drunk just enough to overshare but not enough to forget it the next day) — he is probably _everybody's_ type. 

Stiles likes to say that nobody is out of his league, but that is not taking into account that he is hungover, barely had time to take a shower and arrived late, tripping over the threshold. 

The gorgeous (albeit frowny) guy is looking at him expectantly. 

“Um, hello,” Stiles says, nervously. “I have an appointment? Like, five minutes ago. With Derek Hale, that's you, right."

The guy doesn't confirm it but he doesn't deny it either. Derek it is, then. 

"Sooooo I think I wanna build a house? Sort of. Uh, no, I don't know specifically, I only thought of it yesterday? And it, well, it spiraled out of control. So. A house. I don't really know much about houses, what do we start with?"

Derek just looks at him and Stiles can almost hear him thinking _what are you even doing here, this is not how houses are supposed to be planned, are you seriously just thinking it up right now_ and, most of all, _what's wrong with you_. Then there are the eyebrows. 

“You want to build a house,” Derek says and is this supposed to be a question? It doesn't sound like a question, but at least Derek finally spoken up so Stiles is going to count it as a win. How is that for customer service anyway? Maybe architects don't do customer service. Maybe Derek's so good he doesn't _need_ customer service. Maybe he's one of those guys who think that if they're pretty they can be complete assholes and get away with it. Or maybe their receptionist just got sick. _Whatever._

“Huh, yeah? I mean I think I want one? I was just talking about it with my buddy Scott, but he told Lydia, and now she knows, so I kinda don’t have a choice?”

Stiles is impressed by how Derek can use his eyebrows as question marks and how he manages to look pained and a little bit confused at the same time.

“Do you want to build a house or not.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to will away the headache and focus.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, I want to build a house. That's the plan. Only, there is no plan."

"Let me get this clear," Derek says and his enunciation gets a bit exaggerated. "You just got an idea of building a house and you don't have a clue about what you're doing."

"That… Pretty much sums it up, yeah. Hey, look, it was Lydia who booked the appointment right the next morning, I never said I was prepared for it. But I really do want to build a house."

“Where.”

"Huh?" 

“Where do you want to build your house.”

“In Beacon Hills?”

“And I’m guessing you don’t have any land or even an idea where do you want it?”

“Shit.” It is actually a very good question. He doesn’t have land. And it’s kind of important when you want to build a house. You have to have land to build a house. And maybe you should have land before going to see an architect and telling him, hey, I want a house, but I’m an idiot and my brain shut down after this one good idea, so don’t kill me, pretty please. 

The eyebrows tell him he is an idiot. He has to agree with them.

"I want to speak with your wife," Derek says, and if Stiles had any idea what was going on in this conversation, he loses it now.

"What wife?"

There is a very pained expression on Derek's face.

"The one who told you to build a house and decided to make my life miserable by sending you to talk to me."

"I don't have a wife." Stiles says slowly, because even if there was a time (okay, a long period of time), when he was planning to marry Lydia and live happily ever after, now this thought is so abstract to him that he has problems wrapping his mind around it. And maybe it's the ridiculousness of the idea that makes him stop and actually think about what he's saying.

“Lydia, she's a friend. A terrifying friend but... Okay, no, sorry, I know this is probably unusual. It's just an idea which we came up with yesterday and Lydia apparently decided to make sure I put it into action. I don't know anything about building houses and I could really use someone experienced to walk me through the whole process. Can you - is that something you can do? I totally understand if you don't want to, but, yeah, I gotta find somebody and Lydia said you were some kind of genius, even though you're intimidating, so it would be pretty awesome if you agreed?”

Derek just looks at him with unreadable expression and Stiles actually feels sympathetic towards him; he knows he's a lot to bear on a good day, and now he is not only hungover, but also had been caught off guard by Lydia's call that set the whole plan into motion. He's overwhelmed with the idea, with how much he wants it… And Derek's face is distracting, okay. It's the eyebrows, that’s what it is. And maybe the stubble, maybe. Who is he kidding, _definitely_ the stubble.

Anyway. Stiles really cannot blame Derek for wanting him out of here as soon as possible.

“You know what, maybe I need to think a little bit more about it. And do some research. Eat some breakfast first… Not that you care, okay, I'm just gonna come back later, yeah? Oh god." The last two words he mutters to himself, hurrying to the door, phone already in his hand, dialing Scott. It goes straight to voice-mail. _Of course._

“Scott! Call me back, dude, I have to yell at you, and it's not as effective if you're not there to squirm in shame. What were you thinking! To babble about the house to Lydia, of all the people? How come you even talked to her that late at night? You should have gone to bed, not called around causing trouble. There’ll be words about that, Scott, don’t even think I’ll let go of that one. And we need to talk about the house, so call me, okay? Do _not_ make Allison call me, I’ll yell at her too if you do that!"

He hangs up, shaking his head. His friends are the worst!

***

Derek hates Wednesdays. It’s not because everybody hates Mondays and he wants to be different, he couldn’t care less about that. Wednesdays simply _are_ the worst. There is always something happening on Wednesday. His car broke down twice last year, both times on Wednesday. As if it wasn't enough of a reason to hate Wednesdays, there are also many other small things happening, like running out of milk or arguing with Laura, or meeting new, ridiculous clients, apparently. This day was already bad, because he forgot to do the laundry when it was his turn and Laura in her silent revenge spilled his coffee on him. The coffee was hot, it ruined his shirt and it was also the last bit of coffee they had. Because it was Wednesday so of course they ran out of it, again. 

And now some crazy kid came to the office, telling him that he got drunk with his best friend and decided that he wanted a house. Or this Lydia person decided for him, Derek isn't sure what the story is here. Who does this stuff anyway? College kids are supposed to get drunk and get tattoos, which they will regret for the rest of their lives, not _houses_. College kids shouldn't even be able to _afford_ to buy houses, what the hell. 

But a client was a client so he had to at least listen to him, unless he wanted Laura to shout at him yet again about being rude to the customers. It's not Derek's fault that people have ridiculous demands and no knowledge about construction; they expect the architect to work miracles for them and can't even be bothered to _use google_ to answer their stupid questions. So if Derek wasn't… Customer-friendly, it was perfectly within reason. He did try to listen though, and suffered through good fifteen minutes of the kid babbling about the imaginary house. The kid did look kind of determined and it's not like Derek could just kick him out for being ridiculous.

Thank god the kid finally realized this wasn’t going anywhere and left somewhat abruptly.

Of course Laura had to choose exactly that moment to come out of her office just in time to see the door closing behind the kid.

“Derek, how many times I have to tell you that you have to at least try to be nice! Like smile every once in a while, say more than three words at a time?"

Derek levels her with a glare. Laura sighs.

“So, who was that?”

“Some crazy kid, who has even crazier friends, who want him to build a house.”

“That’s great then?”

“Considering they came up with this idea yesterday while drunk? Not really. All he knew was that he wants a house." Derek makes a face. " _Maybe_ , probably, okay, he does, but this girl Lydia made him and it’s all his other friend's fault.”

“Wow, you actually listened to him! He was cute, right?”

“What does my listening have to do with him being cute?” Sometimes Derek doesn’t understand how his sister’s brain works. 

“I don’t recall you telling me any details about Mister Finstock's ideas when he was here last week. You just said that he had been here and that you would never work with him, ever.”

“So?”

Laura just smirks at him. 

“Just let me know when he comes back.”

“What makes you think he will?”

The kid said he'd be back but it's possible that once he gets some sleep and actually thinks about it, he will come to his senses. If he has any. He probably couldn't afford to build a house anyway, not to mention the responsibility that comes with it. No, he won't be back, Derek decides. It doesn't stop him from looking up every time somebody walks past the door.

***

Stile eats breakfast first and then waits for Lydia who promised to bring some coffee. He browses through various pages on the internet and when Lydia arrives he has a vague idea about what he needs to know before building a house. It turns out that it would be much easier to buy one, but there aren’t many houses for sale in Beacon Hills and he wants too many specific things to find them in a normal house. 

Lydia brings his favorite coffee, which is very rare and means that she likes this idea of building a house much more than she is willing to show. Someone else might think that she could be feeling a little bit guilty about sending him to make an idiot out of himself, but Stiles knows Lydia better than that. 

“And here I was, thinking that research is something you are actually pretty decent at,” says Lydia instead of a hello and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Thanks for the coffee, Lyds,” he says and they both know what his favorite coffee means. She had to drive to the other side of town to get it. 

She glares at him and sits on the couch, taking out her laptop.

“So obviously we need a plan. Just talk to me and I’ll write down all the important facts, how about that?”

“You mean you’ll write all the things you consider important, right?”

“Which means I’ll write down all the important facts, Stiles, how many times do I need to repeat myself. Now talk. God knows this is the first and I hope the last time I have to ask you to do that. And better hurry, I have plans with Jackson at four.”

Talking is something Stiles can do. So he does and when he starts he lets his imagination run free. He had no idea he could think of so many things he would want in his house. Like a small vegetable garden or a pool, or trees near the windows. 

An hour later Lydia puts her laptop down. 

Stiles stops talking and looks at her expectantly. 

“We have all we need for now,” she says.

“We do?”

She rolls her eyes. “Read this and you can even show it to Derek, maybe you’ll impress him with 'your' planning skills.”

“I don’t think anything could impress this guy. Maybe someone with scarier eyebrows,” mutters Stiles, getting the laptop to read Lydia’s notes. 

***

So the next day Stiles, in his favorite Batman tee, enters Hell of a House and he is prepared. He has his research, Lydia's notes and even a vision of what his house should look like (he might have looked at google images for three hours, so what). He also ate breakfast and drank coffee, he is awake, full of energy and no eyebrows can intimidate him.

Of course he is not expecting to see a scary bombshell sitting behind the reception desk. She has this predatory look on her face and red nails. She also is wearing a leather jacket, very similar to the one Derek had and Stiles thinks this is some kind of gang thing. A little bit creepy, but he is wearing Batman shirt and snickers, so no judging.

She looks at him rising an eyebrow and a silent _what do you think you're doing here_ is very clear (is the "no talking" thing some sort of a rule here?). It's not particularly inviting so Stiles doesn't even feel bad when the first thing that comes out of him mouth is not a hello or something similar to a greeting, but:

“So, do you guys go clothes shopping together?" 

For a few seconds the girl seems confused but then she laughs, suddenly looking far less scary.

"No, but sexy and leather go well together," she says and leans over the desk, extending her hand. "I'm Erica."

Stiles very carefully doesn't look into her cleavage.

“Stiles, nice to meet you. Actually I’m looking for this grumpy looking guy with very expressive eyebrows?”

He hears a snicker and turns around to see a very beautiful women wearing, surprise surprise, a leather jacket.

“Someone mentioned my baby brother?” asks the woman, apparently Derek’s sister, coming closer. “I’m Laura Hale, what can I do for you?"

"I'm Stiles. Stilinski. I was here yesterday and made a bit of an idiot out of myself but I actually do want to build a house, so I did some research and hopefully today I'm a little more suitable for human interaction. Could one of you take a look at what I have and tell me whether it's something to work with?"

"Ah, Stiles the man with very enthusiastic friends? I was wondering if you'd be back."

Stiles snorts.

"The man with enthusiastic friends, is that what he told you about me?"

"Well." Laura grins. "He might have worded it a little bit differently. But I'll be happy to help you if you really are serious about this."

"I am. I know it sounds sudden and insane but I want to do it."

"Okay. For us it's even better if we don't have to work with anything pre-set, it gives us more room to breathe. Would you like to sit down and talk it through? And then you can make your final decision."

"Yeah, that would be great."

“I have an appointment in twenty and I won't be able to squeeze you anywhere in the afternoon. Does tomorrow work for you?"

***

When he enters Hell of a House (he's not sure who came up with this name, but he wants to congratulate them, because it is a _hell_ of a name) there is some guy behind the reception desk and Stiles starts wondering how many people actually work there and why every time he comes there he sees someone new, and why the hell all of them are so hot. And wearing leather. Maybe he was right about shopping. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” Stiles stares a little because this guy not only has the cutest smile and a British accent, but he's also the first person at this desk who seems to know the basic rules of customer service. 

“I have a meeting with Laura at 11?”

“Ah, sure, Stiles, right? I’m Isaac, nice to meet you.”

“Huh,” Stiles mutters to himself, shaking Isaac's hand. He has a leather jacket but none of the “sexy aggressive” vibe. More like a whole new level of adorableness. Mysterious. 

“Nice to meet you too. Is Laura here?”

“She will be here in five, she told me to let you in her office.”

Laura comes in three minutes later, apologizing for being late. 

“It’s actually good that you came across me yesterday, normally I speak with clients first, we discuss some general points, draft the budget, and only then we talk to Derek about what the house is supposed to look like.”

“Smart move.”

“And why is that?” asks Laura, raising an eyebrow, and Stiles has a feeling that she already knows the answer.

"I just have a feeling that if he was the first person the customers talked to, there would be fewer houses in Beacon Hills. Customer service isn't really his forte, is it? Though looking like this, he can probably make unfriendly work– oh shit," he says suddenly, realizing it's Derek's sister he's talking to. And the person who is going to be in charge of his house. She can probably build deathly traps in his bedroom and he would never notice. Laura looks like she’s trying very hard not to cackle. 

"Oh my god, sorry. I didn't… Okay, yeah, I meant every word, but I guess me being an idiot two days ago didn't help. Silence was probably the best way to bring me back to my senses. Ugh, sorry, can we just forget about that and start over?"

Laura _does_ laugh, but it's not malicious.

"Absolutely. So, you said you're more prepared today?"

Stiles grins and hands her the notes. 

Twenty minutes later Laura looks a little bit impressed. 

“Looks like you did some nice work yesterday,” she says."The last thing we need to cover is money. I hope you do realize that this is going to be very expensive?"

"I have an idea, I've looked at some costs online. The money is not an issue."

Laura looks at him questioningly. Stiles smiles sheepishly; he's still not really used to the whole being-rich thing, and he sure as hell doesn't look like a millionaire in his cartoon shirts.

"Yeah, I know, I look like a college kid. I should probably thank you for working with me so far and not just kicking me out. I... Might have invented a computer game, which got quite popular. I'm trying to keep it quiet right now, I've got a pseudonym and stuff. It got... A bit out of hand at the beginning. You could say that I have experience with things getting out of hand. Which means that there might be some hope for the house!"

Laura smiles and allows for the change of subject.

"Of course there is! We _are_ the best in town."

"You are the only one in Beacon Hills."

"Only because we feel sentimental towards this town. We could be taking New York by storm this very moment, so consider yourself lucky that we decided to stick around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Voldemortist for spotting a few errors!


	2. Beginner's luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are really, really sorry for such a long break.
> 
> Thanks to Marit for beta!

Finstock called Derek _four times_ this morning and it wasn't even a Wednesday. Obviously Derek didn't pick up but just having to put him on silent every time was more annoying than anyone should have to deal with before nine am. Who even gave Finstock Derek's number? He _told_ Laura he wouldn't ever work with the man. And she mentioned it when talking about Stiles so she definitely did remember. 

Derek sighs as he walks into Hell of a House. They have had this conversation already. Laura should know that dropping clients on Derek's head will not miraculously make him nicer. What's the point? Annoying him, of course, and once again, why did he ever think that working with his older sister would be a good idea? 

Laura's office turns out to be empty. 

"Where is she?" he asks Isaac, getting back to the reception desk. 

"Property shopping with Stiles," murmurs Isaac, flipping through a comic book.

"He's back?"

"Yep." Isaac looks up and grins at him. "Laura didn't tell you? He came back yesterday and they decided to go property shopping today." 

Derek goes alert, the way he always does when he feels that Laura is up to something; twenty eight years of living with a big sister does this to a man. She didn't tell him; she didn't tell him, even though two days ago she was so sure that Stiles would be back. If she resisted the urge to say "I told you so", she must have had something else in mind, and Derek's not sure if he likes this train of thought. 

Erica chooses this moment to poke her head through the door. 

"They seem to be getting along very well, right Isaac?" She grins at him. 

Derek rolls his eyes and wonders why all of his friends and coworkers find so much joy in teasing him. He sighs and gets his jacket. 

“Just for that I’m leaving you my phone, have fun talking to Finstock.” he says and gets out before they can throw the phone back at him. 

His mischievous sister and the insane kid, together, looking for land that Derek is supposed to build on? Not a good idea. 

***

The property is probably the biggest they've seen yet, right at the edge of the forest, and there are plenty of trees around. The whole lot looks neglected, with knee-high bushes and dry leaves, but Stiles likes that there are no other houses nearby. 

"It's going to be quiet here," Laura says. "That adjacent ground over there is not accepted for building so there will be no close neighbors, and as you can see this whole side borders with the forest. Some of it is on the property but it's watched over by the preserve, which means that we can't touch the trees and you'd have to consult any plans with the county. The price is pretty high, too, but I'm sure it's negotiable," she says, which earns her an offended look from the owner. She grins a little and continues to show Stiles around.

"There is a pond over there, which we can either keep or…" 

"A pond?" Stiles looks in the indicated direction but he can't see anything through the bushes, so he goes to take a closer look. He's seen some cool visualizations with ponds, they could totally work it in someho…

"Oh my god!" he screams, slipping on wet mud. He flails, trying to grab something for support, but it's too late and he goes all the way down, into cold, muddy water. It's not deep but it's sticky and disgusting, and he's sure he swallowed something that definitely wasn't water, and... 

“Fuck!”

And of course this is the moment he sees Derek, who looks like he froze mid-step at the sight of Stiles. Stiles' _life_. He sighs, careful not to swallow any more of the water, and grins at Derek. 

"A little help here?" 

Derek frowns, sighs and comes closer to offer him a hand. Very gentlemanly if someone asked Stiles, considering he is all wet and muddy. Derek doesn't seem to mind; he drags Stiles out and, after he made sure Stiles is on a stable land and uninjured, he just looks at his dirty hand, then shrugs and wipes it on his pants. 

Laura and the owner run to them. The owner looks somewhere between worried and resigned; he's probably thinking that no client would want to buy a land where he has almost drowned, and Stiles can't imagine there being many people interested in buying a piece of over-priced land in Beacon Hills anyway. Laura in turn looks like she's trying very hard to look sympathetic but she barely manages not to laugh. 

“So scaring clients off is bad, but trying to drown them is okay?" Derek asks and Stiles looks up from where he's been trying to get some of the mud off himself (and only succeeding in making it worse, really). 

"So you do have a sense of humor!" he says triumphantly, for a second not caring about all his clothes being wet, and there being mud in his hair, and it smelling funny… Okay, so it's kind of hard to ignore. God, he hopes that there were no leeches in the water.

Laura is laughing openly now, Derek is frowning and the owner looks miserable, trying to apologize for not securing the pond. Stiles can only imagine Jackson in his situation: the law suit would be in court faster than Jackson could get out of the water. But Stiles doesn't really mind. Well, it is disgusting and it's only Stiles' luck Derek appeared just in the right moment to see him making an idiot out of himself, but it's not actually worse than that morning with a hangover. And Derek helped him. Which has to mean something, doesn't it? If Derek hated him, he would just leave him for the leeches, right? 

"So, what do you think?" he asks Derek, waving his hand around. Water flies everywhere and Derek scowls. 

"Not sure if you can manage to stay alive here, all this wild nature can be dangerous."

Laura almost chokes and the owner starts to look irritated.

“But it could be a very nice thief trap, right?”

“Thief trap.”

“Awesome, right? I always wanted one of these.”

He's getting used to being judged by the eyebrows.

“No, but seriously, what do you think?”

Derek shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets.

"It's all right. One of the clients wanted to build something here last spring, he changed his mind right before buying, because it turned out that he couldn't get a loan big enough to afford it, but we already looked at the plans. It's good ground, sheltered, not too wet. If you think you can manage not to drown…"

"Awesome!" Stiles says. "It's my favorite, I think. Unless there is something more you want me to see?" he asks, looking at Laura, who shakes her head.

"You want to buy it?" asks the owner incredulously. 

"I'm considering it. For a good price, of course. How about I forget about the pond, and you give me a fair price?"

The owner winces a little and Stiles can't keep himself from grinning.

"I'm sure my lawyer would advise me not to do something like that, but I always thought Whittemores were pretty stiff…" he adds innocently. The owner gets a little pale.

***

That was an interesting turn of events, Derek thinks. Admittedly falling into the pond wasn't Stiles' finest moment, but considering the situation, he made a good deal out of it. He didn't try to take advantage of the owner either, he just negotiated a price which was fair to both of them, according to Laura's expertise. At the end, the owner wasn't very happy but it was obvious that he was relieved to just get out of there after they made the preliminary arrangements.

"That's some way to do business," Laura says as soon as the owner is out of the hearing range. She was trying very hard to remain serious throughout the conversation but now she laughs openly and Stiles grins back at her.

"Beginners luck?" he says, shrugging, with his ridiculous cartoon shirt still dripping wet and clinging to his shoulders. Derek forces himself to look away.

Suddenly Stiles stops smiling and starts palming his clothes with a terrified look on his face. Before either of them has a chance to ask him what's wrong, Stiles already gets his phone out of his pocket. "Shit, shit, shit! It's _so_ dead."

"After drowning it in a pond, that's a shocker," murmurs Derek.

Stiles sends him an offended look. 

"May it rest in peace?" tries Derek again, wincing.

"Ha ha bloody ha," huffs Stiles but he is smirking now. Derek rolls his eyes and reaches to take the drowned phone from Stiles' hand. 

"I'll have Boyd take a look at it."

***

Being without a phone, _especially_ when building a house, is like being without a hand. Stiles should call Scott (who had to be at the clinic and wasn't able to come with him in the morning, but he made Stiles promise to keep him updated — he is probably the only person as excited about the house as Stiles is), and Lydia would probably kill him if he even thought about buying the land without her.

But Laura said that Boyd is good with electronics, and that hopefully the phone should be okay in the evening, if Stiles wants to drop by. This means that he has a few hours to himself to go home, take a shower, get the mud out of his ears and put on a dry change of clothes. By the time he's finished, it's barely four pm, but he decides to go to the Hell of a House anyway; he already likes the people there and he doesn't mind waiting a little.

As he approaches the Hell of a House, he wonders who is going to be at the reception this time. He stops just outside, looking through the glass door, and he is not at all surprised to see yet another stranger: a huge man with dark skin and, of course, wearing an obligatory leather jacket. He's working on something at the reception desk and Stiles is just about to open the door when he sees Erica coming out the back and draping herself over the man's shoulders. They exchange a few words and then she leans to look down at whatever it is the man is doing, sweeping the desk with her blond curls. 

That's when Stiles realizes he's been standing outside and staring for a good minute, so he shakes himself off and presses the door handle. 

"Hi," he says. The man looks up and gives Stiles a nod and Erica flashes him a smile, but they both appear preoccupied with… With Stiles' phone, actually. The guy at the desk must be Boyd, then.

"Is everything okay? It's not dead, is it?"

That gets him a look from both of them.

"Stiles. This is your phone?" Erica asks somewhat accusatory. Stiles shifts uncomfortably and drags his hand through his hair, not sure what it is he is being accused of.

"Yeah? Derek didn't tell you? I kind of drowned it when we were looking for land. A great way to start a relationship with a new home, I'll have you know. I was embraced by the pond. We bonded."

Erica raises an eyebrow at him, although there is a hint of a smile there. Boyd remains impassive. (How do Laura and Derek _find_ these people?)

"Is something wrong? It looks like it's working?"

"It's working. Which doesn't explain this," Erica says, turning the phone his way, so that he can see the SIMOD app opened on the screen. Oh.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah. You guys play?"

"Play what?" says a voice from his right, where Isaac comes into the room.

"There's a SIMOD app on Stiles' phone," Erica says and now there are three expectant gazes fixed on him.

"Creepy much?" he mutters.

"It's going to be released in February. Was there a leak?" Isaac asks and he looks more excited than Stiles has ever seen him… Well, actually he saw him once and it was at the reception desk, so okay, probably anything would be more exciting than that. 

"There wasn't a leak," Erica says. "I would know." She sounds absolutely sure, too.

"You're pretty invested, huh?" 

Erica grins a little. "Who isn't? And don't think I didn't notice you avoiding the question. Did you hack them or something?"

Stiles sighs. It's not like he couldn't tell them about the game. He just doesn't like to broadcast it; all the attention had gotten to be too much very quickly, he barely manages to keep his privacy as it is, and he's only known this bunch for a few days. Technically he wasn't even introduced to Boyd. But then it's not like he has any other explanation for having a yet unreleased app on his phone. He still doesn't know what to say when the door to one of the offices opens and Derek comes out with a phone in his hand.

"Who put this on my desk?"

Isaac turns around to look at him.

"Well, it's your phone, isn't it?"

"It's not mine until Finstock stops calling."

"Finstock?" Stiles jumps in, seeing his chance to steer the conversation away from the subject. It's probably not going to work but he's a fan of ignoring problems until they go away. Or at least for as long as possible. "As in Coach Finstock?"

No one answers him, because the phone starts ringing again. Derek tries to give it to Isaac, who hides behind Erica. Finally Boyd takes it.

"Hello," he says. "Mr Hale is not available." He puts the phone down and switches it off. "I will have it blocked by tomorrow," he tells Derek, who lets out a huff.

"Thank you."

That's when he notices Stiles. "Is your phone fixed?" he asks, and Stiles doesn't know whether to be touched that he asked or to hit his head against the counter because now everybody is looking at him again.

"Yes, it is! It's great, thanks, I really needed it. Boyd — it's Boyd, right? I'm Stiles, by the way — you are totally awesome, thank you. Great, I gotta call Scott and Lydia, and my dad, like, right now, so see you on Monday, have a nice weekend, bye!"

***

Derek looks after Stiles with surprise. Was it something he said? It figures that the one time he tries to be nice Stiles practically runs out of the door. Erica, Isaac and Boyd look at him reproachfully. There goes listening to Laura's advice. 

At least Finstock won't call again. 

Erica rolls her eyes. "It's not you. He run away to avoid answering our question. There's a SIMOD app on his phone which is not yet released, and he didn't tell us how he got it."

"There's a what?"

"SIMOD app. It's a game — I can't believe you've never heard about it, don't you keep a laptop under this rock where you've been living?"

"I prefer books," Derek says.

***

Stiles collapses on his bed with his laptop. There are a few episodes of Elementary he hasn't had time to catch up with and after the traumatic events of the day (he could have drowned, okay!) he decides that he deserves some time off. Besides, Lydia is on a date with Jackson, so there is no way she will know about this, right? 

Lydia believes that Benedict Cumberbatch is the only person allowed to play Sherlock Holmes and that Elementary is an affront to the books. She actually despises the American version so much, she refused to talk to Stiles for whole three days after he mentioned watching it. She practically banned everyone from watching it and Stiles was the only one stubborn enough to continue with the first season. 

Even now, Lydia has some sixth sense about it; she always knows when he's been watching and she threatens to withdraw coffee privileges when they are studying together; she pretends that she doesn't hear him when he tries to remind her that he earned the privileges when he agreed to proofread her thesis.

Stiles watches one episode and briefly considers watching the finale, but it's getting late and he is too tired to enjoy it. He untangles himself from the comforter, puts the laptop away and is just going to the kitchen to get some water when the doorbell rings. He sighs and moves to open the door, entirely unsurprised to see Lydia on his porch. Sixth sense indeed.

Lydia moves to step inside but stops to take a double-look at Stiles.

"You," she says, narrowing her eyes at him, "have been watching Elementary."

"What? No! And even if I have, there would be nothing wrong with it because it's a perfectly good show and I'm allowed to watch whatever I want."

"Elementary," Lydia spits out, as if they haven't had this conversation a hundred times before, "is a poor excuse for a show and it's an affront to the work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Yeah, sure. Because Sherlock BBC is exactly in accordance with the books."

"Benedict Cumberbatch brings Sherlock to the next level. It's an _improvement_ on the books."

"I agree he's the best Sherlock ever, but you're not allowed to judge Elementary from the first two episodes! It gets better in the second half!"

Lydia gives him a murderous glare, turns on her heel and leaves. A minute later Stiles' phone beeps with a text. 

_I’ll consider talking to you if you promise not to mention it ever again._

Stiles sighs. Why do his friends have to be nut jobs? 

_I DID NOT mention it! It's all you and your freaky sixth sense._

He doesn't expect Lydia to answer him, so he's surprised when his phone beeps a minute later. It turns out to be Jackson.

_Breakfast, tomorrow, 9 am, you’re buying._

***

Of course Jackson demanded to meet with him on a Saturday morning. He has this whole “I’m so busy being an important lawyer” thing going on right now… Which, to be honest, isn't all that different from his normal attitude, and it kind of suits him — Stiles isn't sure what he would do if Jackson ever started to behave _nicely_. But now it seems like he uses most of his assholitude (this is totally a word when talking about Jackson) at work, which makes him calmer when he's outside the office. He is much more confident now, like _really_ confident, not faking it. He knows he is good at what he does, which means he doesn't feel the need to prove everything to everybody all the time. 

He's not _nice_ , but he has changed, and after last year Stiles might even say they are friends. In a non-defined, non-conventional way. The point is, Stiles likes him enough to get up earlier on Saturday and even pay for the breakfast.

"Stilinski, everything about this new contract is wrong, who wrote it, a child?" says Jackson instead of a hello and Stiles doesn't even bother to ask how Jackson got their new, unsigned yet contract. 

“I want to remind you that you were the one who recommended this firm to me, because they were…”

Jackson ignores him.

“Here, I’ve made some, which means a lot of, changes. And for fucks sake, tell your lawyer to start thinking, will you? I really have better things to do than keeping an eye on this. Things I get actually paid for.” 

“I told you I can pay for your work,” says Stiles, rolling his eyes but Jackson just waves his hand at him.

“Please, I don’t have time for this and there are more interesting things for me to do."

“And here you are, doing it anyway,” mutters Stiles and again Jackson pretends not to hear him.

It’s actually kind of sweet when Jackson wants to be nice and help him and pretends so hard that he doesn’t care. 

Stiles sighs. It would be so much easier if his friends decided to actually join his firm, but so far Danny is the only one who is officially the part of the company.

All of his friends help him, in one way or another: they have opinions on everything, they discuss stuff with him all the time, they give him advice whenever he needs something related to their lines of work. But they want to have lives of their own and Stiles gets it. It's probably for the better: they would surely kill each other if they had to work together every day. At least his actual employees don't wake him up at 7 am, like that last time when Lydia called to say that he must have been reading too many bad medieval romances, because that whole “power of human love” thing was just ridiculous. How did she even know anything about medieval romances, either good or bad? 

Jackson and Lydia are scarily similar in some ways: they both like approaching him at the weirdest hours, they pretend not to care and they spend a surprising amount of time helping anyway. As annoying as they can get, Stiles is not sure what he would do without either of them.

"Okay," he says, just as Jackson opens a copy of the contract. He's probably going to explain exactly what is wrong with it and Stiles will have to sit through it and pretend that he understands what he's talking about. A distraction, that's what he needs now!

“Oh, I almost forgot!" he says. "I'm glad to inform you that your name spreads appropriate terror amongst fellow citizens!"

Jackson expression looks something between curious, pleased, trying not to show it and letting Stiles know that he has no time for his bullshit.

“I’d ask what you’re talking about but I’m not sure if I care about the answer.”

“Jackson, you’re not fooling anyone anymore, just eat your pancakes and I’ll tell how I managed to use your name for the greater good.”

***

Saturday evening is the first time in a week that Stiles gets to spend with his dad. Since the start of the summer they've been living together again, but Stiles' holidays have been pretty busy and sheriff still works a lot, even though he's been trying to ease off a little in the past few months.

It's nice, Stiles making a dinner and dad talking about his week. It's mostly peaceful in Beacon Hills now but there are still some cases to solve, and Stiles pries a little and tosses some theories, as he would as a teenager. 

They're washing the dishes together, radio playing quietly in the background, when Stiles decides to finally mention the house. He hasn't been _avoiding_ it, but it's a big thing and he's not sure what reaction to expect.

"Sooooo. Dad?"

Dad gives him his best _I know it's going to give me a headache but I'd still rather know_ look.

"I knew it was coming since the extra cheese. Out with it, son."

Stiles scrapes a stubborn bit of pasta.

"There is going to be a new house in Beacon Hills. Just on the border of the preserve. A beautiful piece of land, too, with lots of trees and a pond…"

"And you know about it because…?"

"Um, because I fell into the pond? Turns out it's not as pretty from the inside, and it stinks. Pretty sure I still have some mud in my ears. Three out of ten, would not fall again." Stiles winces. "Fine, so it's me, okay? Building the house. I am building a house in Beacon Hills."

Stiles knows this expression on his Dad's face; it's when he has no idea whatsoever how to react to something Stiles said, so he doesn't say anything, waiting for Stiles to clarify the situation and give him something to hold on to. Stiles dries his hands with a tea towel and sits on one of the kitchen chairs.

"I've not been _not telling_ you. It just happened so fast, we only came up with it a few days ago, you know how it gets between me and Scott, and then Lydia heard about it and sent me to Derek, that's my architect… And yesterday we went land-hunting. We found this bit of land which is kind of perfect. I haven't signed the papers yet, I wanted you to see it too. But I really like the idea, you know? To have a place here, with all of my friends, somewhere to come together with all the people I care about. So, what do you think? Good idea? Bad? Crazy?"

Dad sits at the table opposite to him, with a soft expression on his face.

"You may have crazy ideas, there's no denying that. But I trust you to make good decisions. And, son, of course I am happy that you want to build a house here, in Beacon Hills, and that you will stay close and won't disappear somewhere in the wide world."

"As if I would do that!" Stiles says with indignation, but he is grinning. "You wanna see the land? I will bring you the plans once Derek draws them, we're still not sure about the number of rooms and such. Hey, do you want a room?"


	3. Unfazed by the chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Marit, our beta. We hope you enjoy it!

"Remind me again," Stiles says, propped on Scott and Allison's kitchen counter, "why is it me who's cooking if we're staying at your place? Aren't you guys supposed to be the hosts?"

Scott grins at him, throwing an arm around Allison's waist.

"Exactly. We provide the place, you do the cooking. Everybody's gotta participate."

"That, and your cooking is delicious," Allison adds.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Stiles announces. It's old banter between them; whenever they all get together, it's Stiles who cooks. "Next time we're just ordering pizza," he says, but they never do.

It's a sort of tradition they started when they were in college and spending summer in Beacon Hills: they would all get together at least once a week, cook a mountain of food and watch movies. It's more difficult to do now that everybody except from Allison and Scott is based outside of Beacon Hills, but at the moment Jackson has some work to do here and Lydia, who's doing her PhD, came along. With Stiles kind of floating in and out of the town, the only person missing was Danny, who didn't need much convincing before he agreed to come over during the weekend. 

Speak of the devil — suddenly a guitar riff sounds in the air and Stiles scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket.

"It's Danny, he must be at the store- yo, dude, whazzup?"

"Hi. I already picked up popcorn and drinks, what else do we need?"

"I was thinking about making tortillas?" Stiles says, cell phone in one hand and opening a cupboard with the other. "With a choice of fillings, so that everybody's happy."

“Which means I have to buy half of the shop, you and your diverse tastes," sighs Danny.

“Dude, I’m the one who's gonna have to cook it all, so suck it up! By the way, we're running out of olive oil, take extra virgin if you can find it — try not to devirginise it on your way here, she's probably a girl anyway…"

"And here I thought you'd let go of the jokes after you finally got laid."

"Never! Take chicken breasts — I'm not making any breast jokes, appreciate it — and veggies: onion, lettuce, tomatoes… Canned corn, too." He turns to the fridge. "And cheese! A lot of it. We have mayo, so that should be everything. And check with Lydia, I think she wanted to bake some chocolate masterpiece."

"Okay. See you in forty."

"I can't believe you still haven't changed your ringtone for him," Allison says as Stiles puts the phone down.

" _Hackers_ is a cult movie, show some respect. Now if I could only make Danny go rollerblading…"

"Why rollerblading?" Scott asks and Stiles makes huge eyes at him. 

"Oh my god, Scott, don't tell me you _still_ haven't seen it."

It's beyond Stiles how some of his friends managed not to see some of the most classic movies. Which, okay, maybe _Hackers_ wouldn't exactly make the top of the list, but freaking _Star Wars_? It's like every time Stiles is about to sit Scott down and turn him to the Dark Side of the Force, something happens to prevent it: there is a surprise assignment, family emergency, a wounded puppy that needs to be taken care of... Stiles is nothing if not persistent, though, and he's done harder things in life than sitting five people down and making them watch a movie they don't know that they want to watch (yet).

"So," Scott says quickly, as if he knows where Stiles' mind is going, "does Danny know about the house yet?"

"Only if Jackson or Lydia told him. You think he's gonna want a room, too?" Stiles smirks. "There is a room for everybody in casa de la Stilinski. Hey, does it mean that when we meet at my house, _you_ will cook?"

"Um," says Scott.

***

By the time Danny arrives, the tortillas are cooling down on the windowsill. Everybody moves to put away the groceries and help chopping vegetables, while Stiles prepares the chicken. Stiles catches Scott staring at Allison's hands when she's murdering onions with deadly precision, looking like she's determined to get them done before they have a chance to make her cry. She ends up with red eyes anyway and moves to wipe them with the back of her hand, but Scott is already next to her, catching her wrist and offering a clean tissue instead. He whispers something, lips touching her ear, but Stiles is already looking away. He rubs some dried marjoram between his fingers; the smell of herbs mixes with the onions, making his stomach grumble. 

"So how you guys have been doing? I haven't talked to you in a week," Danny says, from where he's doing whatever it is that you do with shrimps. 

"And whose fault is that? Dude, it's my game you're working on, but even I tell you, you need to chill out!" 

"Oh, I've been chilling all right." Danny smirks. 

"That's my boy! And here I thought you were working so hard… Well, I guess you could say-" 

"Stiles," Allison says. 

"Shutting up." 

"I still can't believe he listens when you tell him that," Scott says. 

"It's just one of my skills." Allison smiles and Scott grins at her. 

"You have many useful skills." 

"TMI, guys!" yells Stiles. "Hands off each other, go wrap some tortillas, we'll put chicken in the next batch."

"How comes _my_ sex life is not too much information for you?" 

"Less exposure," Stiles says, throwing the chicken on the pan. "But you know what, it's actually good that you haven't told me anything. This way you can't be mad when I tell you I'm building a house!" 

"You're _what?_ " 

"Building a house, for when we're all in Beacon Hills. Christmas, Thanksgiving, you know. And Lydia apparently wants to write her thesis there... But never mind, you talk about your guy first - you've met someone, right?" 

"Fine," Danny says, "but only because the story is too ridiculous not to tell."

This gets him curious stares from all three of them.

"You know there is a new coffee place just a few blocks from me? Last week I thought I'd check it out and of course there was this guy behind the counter."

"Awww," Stiles coos. "A coffee shop, how adorably cliché."

Danny raises his eyebrows at him in a _do you want me to continue or not_ expression, so Stiles raises his hands in defeat; he forgets that he’s still holding the spatula in one of them, and some of the sauce lands on Allison's cheek. She laughs and says "it's okay" before Stiles even has the chance to apologize, while Scott leans in to kiss the bit of sauce off her face.

"Wow, dude, that's so good," Scott says, trying to grab the spatula, which Stiles moves out of his reach.

"It's a special Allison flavor, a new addition to my- I can't believe I just said that, never mind, stay away from the pan. Food later, now Danny talks."

Scott pouts a little but goes back to wrapping. "Yeah, so what's with the coffee shop guy?" 

Danny seems completely unfazed by the chaos and just picks up from where he was interrupted.

"There was a rush so we only exchanged a few words, but I thought we hit it off. So the next day I waited past the normal lunch time to grab my coffee."

"Subtle," Stiles mutters, and then: "okay, okay, go on, shutting up."

"I went in, and sure, he was there… But it seemed like he wasn't interested at all. Actually he kept flirting with women."

"Ouch."

"I thought, okay, maybe I misread the signals the first time round. But the coffee was good, so the next day I went there again… And he was like a different person, smiling at me, taking time to talk to me even though there was quite a queue. He said his name was Ethan - they don't have the name tags there like they do in…"

"Wait, _Ethan_? You cannot date somebody named Ethan!"

Danny looks at him with an exasperation. "Seriously, Stiles. Life is _not_ Queer As Folk."

"Just wait till your Ethan cheats on you with one of his fans."

"He works in a _coffee shop_."

"His _coffee_ fans, you never know, some people are obsessed and you should never try to reason with an addict. Okay, so what happened next? You exchanged names, phone numbers…"

"Just names, actually, but I thought things were going well. But then I came in the day after and guess what?

"Cold fish again?" Scott tries and Danny nods, one of his dimples showing.

"Dude, that's a way to confuse a guy. I thought that mixed signals were pretty much women's domain," Scott says, which earns him a punch in the side from Allison.

"I was just going to ask Ethan what's going on, because it's not like I had anything to lose... And imagine my surprise when suddenly _another_ Ethan came out from the back. Turns out they're twins, running the coffee shop together."

“Are you kidding me, twins in coffee shop, this is awesome!” Stiles grins. “Dude, your life just became a rom-com, I can't even decide on a joke, there are so many."

“I'm sure,” Danny says dryly, but he is smiling. “I must have looked gobsmacked when I saw them. I mean, twins aren't that rare, but I just didn't expect it."

"Sure." Allison smirks. "When somebody behaves in a weird way, _maybe he has an identical twin_ isn't exactly the most natural conclusion."

"Unless you live in a rom-com," Stiles interjects. "So let me guess, it lead to an apology-for-confusion coffee from Ethan…"

"It did, actually."

"Which lead to let-me-apologize-some-more BJs…" Stiles dodges Scott's hand and Danny gives him an amused look.

"As if I'd tell you."

"You know, I'm just asking because I want to know if I need to include him in the plans for the house, I bet that Derek would kill me if I tried to change anything after it's all planned."

"For god's sake, I've known him for _two weeks_ and half of the time I was actually talking with his brother! Who's Derek anyway?"

"He's my architect, just wait till you see him." Stiles grins. “And I wasn't even the one who chose him, Lydia was, so no comments about letting his looks cloud my judgment.”

Danny rolls his eyes. "Where did this whole idea of the house even come from?" 

"You know, first there was Chaos. Then there was drinking with Scott on a week day, which never ends well. And then he," Stiles points his finger at Scott accusingly, "babbled about it to Lydia, who called an architect, and here we are?" 

"All of you are impossible," Danny mutters, but his dimples are showing. "One week I've been off this ship. One bloody week!" He shakes his head. "So what have you done so far?" 

"I'm just about to buy the land and we need to decide what exactly we want in the house. “

Stiles doesn't have a chance to say more because the doorbell rings. 

Scott and Allison have their hands full of food, so Stiles turns the stove off and goes to open the door. 

"Lydia, Jackson, you're right on time, just when everything is ready and waiting for you!" he says. "Why are you wearing a suit? It's Sunday! Even you can't be wearing a suit on your day off and working on Sunday is simply _wrong_."

Jackson really looks tired, but he just rolls his eyes. Lydia purses her lips.

"He's still working on that pro-bono case he pretends not to care about," she says, raising her eyebrows and making huge eyes at Stiles. Jackson pretends not to hear her, and he steers them both into the already crowded kitchen.

"What we're having?" he asks.

"Tortillas!" Scott grins and this here is a part of what brought him and Stiles together: enthusiasm for food. Because _food_. Jackson pokes at one of the wraps suspiciously. 

“Are there tomatoes in these?"

Stiles snorts. "Sure there are. Everything to make your life more miserable. No, jackass, there aren't. Unless you give me a reason to put them there, so think twice before you touch my popcorn." 

"You're actually threatening me with food.” 

"Shut up and help us bring it to the living room. Can you guys just finish up those with chicken? Awesome."

***

They watch both _Star Trek_ remakes, because the new one is out and a few of them haven't even seen the one from 2009, not to mention the original series, and that's something that ought to be fixed. 

"How come you've watched _Firefly_ and not _Star Trek_? Lydia, I was expecting more of you. Once that house is done, we are doing a whole series marathon. As a celebration."

For now, though, they settle for the movies. It goes as expected: Scott and Stiles exchange pros and cons of the adaptation, Danny mostly stays silent and at times mouths along with the characters because he already has all the lines memorised, Jackson pretends not to be moved by all the scenes designed to make people cry, and the girls make weird sounds each time Cumberbatch as much as says something from behind the camera (seriously, how did they even know that was his voice?). Stiles gets to break the tie on whether or not Jim Kirk is hot — Allison says he definitely is (Scott pouts a little so she assures him Kirk can’t compare to him), Lydia says he's nothing special (but she wouldn't kick him out of bed; Jackson probably would). Stiles has to side with Allison, because _hello stubble_. Danny just waits patiently for them to finish and says that Bones is the hottest. Stiles looks at him with disbelief but Lydia says he is definitely something. Stiles feels so betrayed.

Halfway through the second movie Stiles says that _for fuck's sake, Kirk and Spock should just fuck already_ , which results in Scott throwing popcorn at him.

"Just because you cannot find yourself a boyfriend, it doesn't mean you get to turn all the characters gay!" he says. Scott is just a huge fan of Uhura: he thinks that she's one character that actually got better in the movies.

"And she _loves_ Spock," he adds, like that's an argument against all the UST between Kirk and Spock, seriously, has Scott _seen_ this movie?

"Yeah," Stiles snorts, "she loves him so much that she probably resigned herself to celibacy because there is no way any sex is involved between these two, look at the way they kiss."

"I think it's sweet," Allison says. 

"Intelligence and restraint?" Lydia adds. "I think it's hot."

"Volcano-hot," Stiles mutters, because she does have a point.

"And we know that Spock does have emotions," Allison adds. "Maybe he just doesn't like PDA?"

"And when in private they have passionate tantric sex," Stiles says, which makes both Allison and Scott blush, and Stiles _really_ doesn't want to know.

***

There is something ringing in the room, loud and annoying as hell. Stiles paws around, without opening his eyes, but he can't find the source of the noise, so he just moans ("somebody fucking make it stop") and hides his head under a pillow, which does little to muffle the sound. Then he hears somebody move and the noise, mercifully, stops, so Stiles can go back to his dream filled with some definitely non-specific stubble and hazel eyes, and strong hands, and...

"What the fuck?" Jackson shouts after what feels like a minute. "Who the hell took the battery out of my phone?"

Stiles dives further under his pillow so that he barely hears Danny saying: "sorry, I couldn't figure how to make it stop" in a sleepy voice.

"So you took the fucking battery out? Fuck, aren't you an IT specialist, one would thought you could at least switch an alarm off properly, and damn, I'm gonna be late now."

Danny sighs and gets up.

“Just chill out, go get ready and I will make you some coffee, okay?”

Jackson grunts something in reply and just when Stiles thinks he can goes back to sleep Jackson steps on his hand, which, _ouch_.

“Dude! You broke my arm!”

"Not my fault you travel across the floor in your sleep," Jackson says, but then he mutters "sorry" under his breath.

"I like you so much better in the morning when you have a day off," Lydia says from where she's lying on the coach, without even opening her eyes. "There's a fresh suit in the blue bag by the door and you owe me breakfast in bed. With waffles."

By the time Jackson is out the door, everybody is more or less awake. Allison left at some ungodly hour to teach her 7 am self-defense class (because apparently some ass kicking is a great way to start a day, who knew), so it's just the four of them: Stiles, Scott, Lydia and Danny. Lydia makes the most perfect pancakes known to man and they eat breakfast together, just before Scott has to go to the clinic. Lydia then wants to see the land and Stiles calls his dad so they can go together.

"Yo dad, have some time to see the land today? I want to sign the papers later, if you like it. Lydia's coming, too."

"Sorry, kiddo, we have a crazy day here, I don’t think I’ll be able to get away today.”

"What about tomorrow?"

"I can't promise anything. But if you like it, go ahead, buy it. I'll have many more chances to see it."

"Really? I can wait, you know..."

"I trust Lydia's judgement," his dad says and Stiles can practically see him smiling over the phone.

"Wow, thanks, dad, that's so sweet."

His dad laughs.

***

Laura is in the kitchen making dinner when her phone starts ringing. She has a new ringtone again, Derek notices, that thing from _Castle_. Derek thinks it was _Bones_ before; Laura likes changing her ringtones in accordance to her favourite shows, and even if Derek doesn't really watch them with her, he recognizes the music. Usually they would sit together on a coach, her feet under his thighs, Laura watching the show and Derek reading his book, sneaking a glance at the screen from time to time. Criminal mysteries are not really his thing but he doesn't mind the background noise and Laura's laugh, or her digging her toes into his leg when she's excited. 

"Laura," he shouts from where he's sitting in the living room. "Your phone is ringing!”

“Who is it?”

He looks at the screen. “It's Stiles!”

“So pick up! I’m busy right now!”

“It's your phone!”

“And I’m making dinner for you!”

Derek can't argue with that so he stands up to grab the phone and he moves to the kitchen, so that Laura can hear everything without him shouting.

“Stiles," he says and for a second there is a silence on the other end. 

"Hey- Derek? Hi, I wanted Laura but it's cool as well, better actually. Sorry for calling so late but I've just bought the land, the paperwork took forever. So what about that meeting? About planning the house, that is, you said the beginning of the week would work for you."

"I think tomorrow's fine, around 10 am?" he says, looking at Laura for confirmation.

"Finstock's coming at 10."

"What? No, he's not, we're not working for him!"

"Are you seriously not going to take it? I know you don't like him, but…"

"Laura, no. We both have dealt with people like this before, you know how it works. I can't stand him, I'm not going to work with him."

"Umm, guys?" he hears Stiles saying and he realizes that he still has a phone in his hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm still here? But I can call later or something?"

Laura takes the phone from him. "Stiles. Is 1 pm okay for you? Yes? Great, see you tomorrow," she says and she hangs up. "Look," she begins, but then she stops. Derek meets her eyes.

"Do you really want to work with Finstock? Because I could force myself and do it. But you know it's going to be horrible, and we don't _need_ to."

Laura sighs. "No, I guess not. Sorry. I'll just tell Finstock not to come, okay? And you focus on Stiles, judging from what he's already told me, we're going to have _a lot_ of work."

***

Technically Stiles knows that he can't avoid Erica, Boyd and Isaac forever, but he has no idea what to tell them about SIMOD yet, and half of a plan is better than none, right? Which is why he is now ten minutes late to his meeting with Derek, planning to use it as his excuse to run straight into Derek's office without talking to any of them. _Leaving_ the place afterwards may prove to be a little more tricky... Okay, so maybe he didn't think it through. Still here he is, hiding around the corner of the Hale of a House, lurking like a professional creeper. Anyway, ten minutes is up so he probably has to go in now, if he wants Derek to talk with him at all.

"What are you doing here?" he hears somebody say from behind him and he jumps a little - and what is _Derek_ doing here?

"Derek! Fancy meeting you at this beautiful corner. Guess what, I'm running late for a meeting with this architect of mine..."

 _What the hell am I talking about_ , he thinks, and Derek's eyebrows seem to agree, but then he just shrugs and moves towards the doors.

"Wait, no! We can't just go in like this."

"Like what?" Derek asks, confused, and he looks at the building, probably trying to see why Stiles doesn't want to go there.

"Like this! Isn't there some sort of back door?"

“So you’re still avoiding my co-workers,” guesses Derek.

“Oh, you know about that, right, you were there on Friday. So, yeah? They can be pretty intimidating, man, especially Erica.”

Derek starts to nod and then he seems to realise it and stops abruptly.

Stiles laughs. "Hey, you can admit it, she is scary!"

The corner of Derek's lips curves up a little. "She certainly knows how to have her way." And then he pushes the door open. Stiles goes in a step after, and he sees that it's Erica's day at the desk, but she doesn't have the time to as much as grin at them before Derek says: "Hi, Erica, sorry, we're running late," and leads Stiles to his office. Stiles gives her a little wave, closes the door and lets out a breath. He turns around to face Derek, who wears a little smirk.

"Wow, dude, you saved my life, thanks."

“You realize you will have to get out of my office some time?”

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"Or I could tell them to leave you alone. They don't mean anything bad by it but you're a client, they should not be bothering you."

"Nah, that would be cheating. I’ll just take the window or something. But thanks, man."

"And the next time you will be lurking around the corner again, ten minutes late?"

"Hey, it worked this time! And it's not like you had to wait for me… Wait, if I was late, that means you were late too, what's your excuse?"

Derek huffs. "Since you told me yours, I guess I can tell you mine."

Stiles grins. "Baby, that's not the way it works around here," he says because he can't help himself.

Derek just raises his eyebrows and doesn't even ask.

"No, c'mon, tell me, I'm curious now."

"I had a lunch break and then I saw Finstock on the street. I didn't want to meet him so I had to take the longer way back." Derek says and smiles a little, like he's amused with himself.

Stiles laughs. "Seriously?"

"Says the one who's planning to escape through the window."

"Hey, at least I'm avoiding three people, not just one."

"Finstock counts at least as two."

"I still got three, though." Stiles grins, enjoying this conversation more with every minute. "But I had classes with Finstock for six years, so I feel you, man. So what, you refused to work with him and he's stalking you now?"

Derek looks horrified with the idea for a second, like he's actually considering it.

"Easy, hopefully he's too busy terrorising lacrosse kids. Or looking for another architect. Did you and Laura actually send him away?"

Derek smirks. "Apparently we have a client who's going to need our full attention."

"I bet he is."


	4. Twenty percent of the family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. We definitely want to finish this story, but can't promise anything about the frequency of updates; we're both busy with our private lives and MHMRB is simply something we enjoy writing whenever we have time and inspiration. 
> 
> A huge THANK YOU for those who decide to stick around and we wish you a great 2014!
> 
> By the way, we don't actually know anything about architecture OR ridiculously expensive Marvel footwear. Also, apologies to all the accountants, we're sure you're doing a great job. ;-)
> 
> Unbetaed, because we didn't want to make you wait any longer. Please let us know if you notice any mistakes.

It's been two hours, Derek is surprised to realize, when they decide that it's enough for the day. Two hours and Derek didn't hate it. Usually the first few meetings with a client are the worst: that's the time when the client's unrealistic expectations are met with reality and many people look at Derek like it's his fault that he cannot bend the laws of physics. 

Working with Stiles wasn't perfect either, but it was obvious that he'd done quite a lot of reading and, most of all, he actually listened when Derek told him something. Derek's worked with way too many clients who thought that they knew his job better than him: the "I will design the house, I just need you to draw it for me" sort of people. Stiles, on the other hand, threw one hundred ideas at him, but then he listened to Derek's explaining if and how they could work, and he was open to Derek's suggestions. 

"So, that was good, right?" Stiles looks at him sideways from where he's still sitting right next to Derek; at the start of the meeting he was sitting across the desk from him, but then they begun to draw and they soon discovered that it's much easier when they're both looking at the sketch from the same angle. They ended up at the same side of the desk and Derek finds that he's in no hurry to get up.

"Right," he says and feels stupidly happy when Stiles grins. They look at each other for a moment. Stiles clears his throat.

"Right. So. I should…" He stands up, manages to kick the chair he's been sitting on and then catch it before it falls down. "Thanks. For, you know, explaining everything. And… Stuff."

Derek snorts and tries to make the answering "you're welcome" as sarcastic _and_ sincere as possible at the same time. Stiles laughs.

"I'll see you Friday, yeah?"

Derek nods. "You want me to distract Erica?" 

***

Erica's sitting _on the reception desk_ , her high heels knocking against the wood. The way she's sat, it's impossible to get to the door without passing by her. Stiles feels vaguely as if he was looking at a sphinx.

"Are you going to give me a riddle to solve?" he asks, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Are you going to avoid me until the house is built? Cause let me tell you, nobody does tiles better than I do."

"Erica," Derek growls from where he is just a step behind Stiles, and he puts a hand on his shoulder, which feels weirdly protective. In a good way.

"Geez, chill out, will you? I'm not going to eat him," she says, giving Stiles a look like she actually considered eating him; it's not exactly comforting. Erica hops off the desk. "We're not going to bother you, okay? Whatever it is that you have to do with the game, it's your business."

"That's… Really cool of you, thanks. Not that I have anything to do with- wait." Stiles narrows his eyes at her. "You…"

"Shhh," she murmurs, pressing her index finger against her lips. "You're secret is safe with me, Bruce."

Stiles lets out a startled laugh. "It better be, Selina," he answers and she winks at him before going back behind the desk. Stiles isn't sure what to think — did she just google him? How much did she actually find? He tried googling himself and he's pretty sure there isn't much out there (thank you, Danny) — But he finds that he isn't actually bothered. She'd make a good Catwoman, he thinks.

The front door opens with a ring of a bell and a man comes in. He looks thirty-something, pissed off and is holding a tissue to his forehead.

"Peter? I thought you were in LA," Erica says, while the man — Peter — moves past them and sits down in one of the armchairs near the window. 

"What you're doing here?" Derek asks, which earns him a glare; Stiles thinks vaguely that their glares look oddly matching.

"Can't an uncle visit his favourite nephews?" Okay, so that explains the similarity.

"Bullshit, Cora's your favourite. What happened to your forehead?"

Peter looks at the ceiling. "I tripped. On a shoelace," he says like he cannot believe the extent of his disgrace. Stiles winces in sympathy because it has _actually happened to him before_ and he knows what it feels like. 

"I feel you, man, shoelaces are the worst. Not only you hurt, but you also feel like out of all the trite cartoon motives you've picked the worse one to imitate. I'd be dead by now if my limbs weren't made of rubber."

Peter looks at him with interest, tilted head and all.

"Thank you. And you are…?"

"Stiles. Stilinski." He offers his hand and immediately feels stupid because he's standing and Peter is still sitting down, which makes it kind of awkward. Peter either doesn't share Stiles' feelings about the height difference, or chooses to ignore them, and shakes his hand. 

"It's certainly a pleasure to meet you, Stiles," he says, which for some reason seems to increase the level of weirdness by another few degrees. "Now," Peter says, finally turning his gaze away from Stiles, to Erica and Derek. "Can somebody get me a First Aid kit?"

“First Aid kit.” Derek raises his eyebrows, looking unimpressed. “You’re fine.”

"Now, let Peter be the drama queen that he is, will you?" says Erica, leaning over the desk, cleavage and all. "No reason to rain on his parade."

"Whatever." Derek not so much rolls his eyes as rolls his whole head; it almost beats Stiles' patented Special Triple Eyeroll, Stiles thinks. Not quite, but it's definitely up there. "I think we have one in the office," Derek says. "I'll get it."

Peter smirks. Derek disappears into the office and a moment later Laura comes out with a grin on her face.

"Peter!" She moves across the room to give him a hug. "What you're doing here?"

"Why does everybody always assume that I have a motive? Do I need one?" Peter pouts, putting the tissue back to his forehead.

"No, but you always have one anyway." Laura sits in an armchair next to him. "And what’s with the tissue? I can see barely a scratch there." 

"Don’t I deserve just a little bit of compassion?" He sighs theatrically.

Suddenly a medium-sized box lands in Peter's lap. 

"First aid," Derek says and Stiles snorts. 

"Whatever happened to 'respect your elders'?" Peter says dryly, rummaging through the kit. "One day you're the favourite uncle and the next they mock your injuries."

"Should I kiss it better, oh favourite uncle of mine?" Laura asks in a sweet voice.

"Please, don't," Derek says at the same time that Peter says: "Thanks, but I'd rather use the antiseptic."

"Hey, there should totally be a mutant like that," Stiles blurts and suddenly he has four pairs of eyes fixed on him. It occurs to him that maybe it wasn't the most obvious thing to say in a room full of adults, even if said adults don't behave very seriously. Whatever, he's wearing Marvel snickers, he's allowed to randomly talk about X-Men. "I mean, like Viper but with an antiseptic instead of venom? So she could literally _kiss it better_." 

"More like: lick it better," Erica says. "But it _is_ kind of weird that there aren't more mutants with healing abilities. They can heal themselves, but not the others."

Everybody looks like they're considering this thought, rather than desperately trying to come up with a change of subject; Stiles might love these people a little. 

"Angel could do that freaky thing with his blood," Derek says and, wow, did he just get even more sexy or what? Stiles tries to distract himself with thinking about more examples. He's pretty sure that there have to be _some_ , but he has trouble recalling any at the moment. 

"Huh. Elixir could do that, right? But it was that whole organic matter stuff. There _has_ to be somebody whose powers are focused solely on healing."

"When you think about it, healing _others_ isn't exactly essential for your survival."

"Wrong," Laura says. "If you can heal others, they can provide for you in return. And you could heal your own children and family, make sure your genes stay in the poll…"

"That's not even how Marvel's mutation works," Derek says. "The children may get the x-factor but they can develop completely different powers. If there are few mutants with a power to heal others, it's because of the writers' choices, not because of the _evolution_." 

"Says the one who spent hours discussing the inner workings of a _Time Turner_ with me?" Laura sniggers.

"Says the one who kept drawing _baby dementors_?" Derek retorts, raising his eyebrows. Peter, who just applied a band aid on his forehead and closed the first aid kit, looks at them with a quiet amusement and in this moment Stiles can really see him as their uncle; probably the one who bought them all the comics and took them to the cinema to see Harry Potter premiere at midnight.

Peter catches him looking.

"So, Stiles," he says, and for some reason it grabs everyone's attention; even Laura and Derek break their silent staring contest. "How did you end up being friends with this bunch?"

Stiles puts his hands into his pockets and smiles. "Actually, I'm a client. But I hope that the two are not mutually exclusive?" He shots a glance at Derek, who looks at the floor, and is that a smile?

"Sure they aren't," Laura says, grinning, "otherwise you'd have to find yourself a new contractor." Stiles grins right back at her; they haven't known each other for that long but he already likes her and it's a pretty great thing to hear from somebody.

"Wouldn't want that," he replies. "I hear that you're the best in Beacon Hills."

"Damn right we are," Laura says. "Stiles has just bought that land near the preserve," she tells Peter. "The one Mr Jones wanted?"

"Ah, yes, and he resigned because of the price, didn't he? _I told you_ that you could negotiate something more acceptable, Laura."

"Actually, it was all Stiles," Derek says, and Stiles might be imagining things but he thinks he can see a hint of a smirk in the corners of his mouth. Peter raises his eyebrows in what looks like an ironic version of polite interest… Or something. Apparently Derek's talkative eyebrows didn't come out of nowhere.

"Well," Stiles says, going for a casual shrug. "What I didn't pay in money, I paid in embarrassment."

"He fell into the pond," Laura stage-whispers, "and threatened the owner with the Whittemores."

Stiles doesn't really mind but it doesn't stop him from making an indignant noise. Peter laughs.

"I will certainly keep this tactic in mind for the future," he says. 

“Says the man who tripped over his own shoelace. You could just as easily fall into a pond, quit with the condescension."

“Fair enough," Peter admits.

***

Derek leans back against the reception desk. Why is he even surprised that Stiles and Peter are getting along? Let's face it, Stiles is exactly the kind of person Peter would find entertaining, he loves it when people come right back at him. And Peter himself can come across as smart, witty and likable if he gives enough of a damn to make the effort. 

Now somehow Peter mentioned the fact that he's an accountant and it looks like Stiles didn't expect that at all. To be fair, he's not the most stereotypical one, so Derek doesn't blame Stiles for being surprised.

"What? No way!" Stiles says.

"Way," Peter says, because apparently he's been reduced to a five-year-old. Derek sees Laura and Erica exchange amused glances.

"Never underestimate an accountant, Stiles." Peter takes a business card out of his pocket (Derek once saw him produce his card out of nowhere at a _swimming pool_ , so he's not one bit surprised that he has one handy now) and offers it to Stiles.

"In case you ever require assistance," he says. "I have experience with both big companies _and_ wealthy individuals."

Stiles gapes at him.

"How do you…?"

Peter smiles smugly. "Please, you're wearing Marvel snickers from a limited edition, how many college students do you think walk in ten thousand dollar shoes?"

"How do you even know this? Damn, I knew it would bite me in the ass one day, but I just couldn't resist. What else do you need money for if not for fulfilling your wishes? My eleven-year-old self would be _so disappointed_ with me if I didn't get them."

"Couldn't have that," Peter agrees. "Speaking of wishes” he says to the room at large, "you know about Macklemore playing in LA?"

Stiles not only knows, he also has tickets — precisely, two tickets, for him and Jackson. Out of all of their friends, only Stiles and Jackson are Macklemore's fans, so it was only logical for them to go together, but Jackson hadn't mentioned it and Stiles felt weird just asking... It took him two days of overthinking (the ticket sale coming closer and closer to opening) before he decided to, very casually, just text Jackson about it. In the end Jackson beat him to it with a text: _I'm buying the tickets, loser. Sector A?_

So, yeah, Stiles definitely knows about the gig. "Sure," he says, in time with Erica's shrug and Laura's groan while sinking deeper into her armchair.

"Don't talk to me about it. I can't believe I missed the ticket sale! It's like with birthdays, you know it's coming for weeks, and then on the day — don't you dare laughing at me, you wanted to see him, too!" She points her finger at Derek, who's smirking. Peter looks at them with a polite smile until he has their attention again. He raises his eyebrows pointedly.

"You didn't…? Do you…?" Laura says.

Peter grins. "I'm a man of many talents. And connections. And you owe me dinner. Both of you," he says, glancing at Derek, who looks like he's smiling despite himself.

"Oh my god! That's — sure, dinner, absolutely! Thank you!" She stretches out from her armchair to hug Peter. "You're my favourite."

"I better be."

"Who else is coming?"

"Cora."

"I though she wasn't a fan?"

"She's not, she just likes to go out."

"Who's Cora?" Stiles asks Erica.

"Laura and Derek's little sister who lives in LA."

"…And the apple of Peter's eye," Laura adds.

"Hey, I got you the tickets, didn't I? No need to get jealous."

"As if," Laura says and Derek snorts, which earns him a kick.

Peter rolls his eyes in a way that very clearly says _kids_. 

"Jack wanted to go as well but he's out of town, working. That's my other nephew," he adds for Stiles' benefit.

"Wow, how many of you are there?"

"Are you sure you want to start this conversation?" Erica says.

"That many? Okay, hit me."

Suddenly all three of the present Hales are wearing scarily similar smirks.

"Well," Laura says. "There is me, Derek and Cora, that's three. Our parents used to live here but when Cora left for college they said it's time for a change and moved to Florida to rescue some wetlands."

"Wow, really?" That sounds pretty awesome.

"Yeah. They're working on the restoration of the Kiss Me river."

"Kissimmee," Derek corrects with exasperation, which suggests that it's not the first time Laura made this joke.

"Whatever. I went there last spring, it's pretty great, if not for all the tourists coming to the Disney World. So, that's our parents. Uncle Peter here is mom's brother. Then there's dad's brother, uncle Chuck-"

"He's a writer, but we don't talk about it," Peter breaks in.

"...Uncle Chuck," Laura says, as if she hasn't been interrupted, "with his wife Becky, they live on the East Coast. Dad also has a sister, aunt Hannah — I think she might be in Mexico now?" She looks at Peter, who shrugs.

"No idea, you know she avoids me since the soup incident."

Stiles' eyebrows shot up at this remark but Derek just shakes his head in the "you don't want to know" gesture. Stiles is pretty sure that he would in fact very much like to know, but he lets it go for now.

"Okay, so that's, how many... Nine so far?" That's already much bigger than his family, even counting Scott, Melissa and Allison (which he does), but Erica grins at him and says:

"Wait till you hear about the cousins."

"Right," Laura says. "You've already heard about Jack. He's uncle Sam's son, works for a publishing company in San Fran. His older sister, Julie, went on an exchange to Belgium a few years ago, met Nick there."

"He's a good guy," Derek says with a small smile.

"Yeah, he is. Julie was always Derek's favourite cousin," she explains. "He had the talk with Nick and everything." She grins. "They stayed in Belgium, both work as simultaneous translators for the EU and they just had a baby boy, Eric, I haven't seen him yet."

"We have to visit," Derek says. "Wanted to go to Europe for a while anyway."

"Yeah, we should. So that's them. Then there's Susie — she's aunt Hannah's eldest, she lives in Chicago with her husband John and their two adoptive kids, Caroline and Harry."

"And three dogs, don't forget the dogs," Peter says. "I don't have a clue how their house still stands."

"Hush! Hales' houses are known for very high endurance. Okay, who else...?"

"Tom," Derek says. "Hannah's son from her second marriage. He's doing a round the world travel with his boyfriend Joe. Last I've heard from them, there were in Japan and Tom was being an asshole about sushi."

"Oh my god!" Stiles laughs and mouths "I've lost count ages ago, how many people is that?"

"I've warned you," Erica says.

"With granddads Theodore and Michael, that's twenty two," Laura supplies.

"No, wait," Derek says. "Aren't we forgetting someone...?"

"Nooo, I don't think so," Laura says, grinning, and Stiles feels like he's missing something.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure we only have twenty one so far. Trust an accountant's word on that."

"Isn't this kind of sad that we always forget about someone?" Laura sighs dramatically.

"It's even sadder that almost every time it's the same person," Peter says seriously. "What's his name again? Luke? Louis?"

"Leo!" Derek snaps his fingers.

"He's an actor," Erica tells Stiles with a smirk, like it explains everything.

"I think he might have been in this movie or another," Peter says, shrugging theatrically. Stiles snorts; it's one of those times when you're not in on the joke but you can't help laughing anyway. 

"Might have been nominated for an Oscar or two…" Erica says, studying her nails.

"Oh, really?" Laura says with exaggerated astonishment. "Who knew."

“Well, he changed his name, so it’s not our fault we keep forgetting about him.” Peter doesn’t look bothered with that at all. 

“Okaaaay,” says Stiles. Talk about weird family. "Is that all, then? Twenty two?"

"It depends on who you count — there is family's family, like aunt Becky's sister — but we don't really keep tabs on them."

"No wonder… Wow. So, like, what do you guys do for Christmas and such? You seem pretty close for people who live all over the globe. Do you all get together?" He has trouble imagining it, really. His idea of a crowded dinner is ten people, tops; twenty sounds like a freaking Armageddon.

Laura shakes her head. "Not for Christmas, no. Everything is just hectic and crazy expensive, and anyway we can never agree on our traditions. There've been wars over potatoes. So now we celebrate Christmas, Thanksgiving and such in small groups where we live - here it would be just the five of us, with Cora and Jack. But then we have the Hale Day."

Stiles snorts. "What? You actually call it that?"

Derek smirks. "Like you wouldn't jump at the chance."

"Point. So what's that about?"

"It's more like a Hale Week actually; once a year we have a big get together of the whole family. Usually we go camping, because nobody in their right mind would agree to host all of us at the same time. It's kind of horrifying as it is."

***

 _Closed_ says the sign on the door but it's only true in regard to the clinic, because the door itself opens easily, letting Stiles in. The front is dark, with only a strap of light coming from the back room. 

"Yo," he says, walking in. Scott is hunched over a kitten on the examination table; he looks up to flash Stiles a smile.

"Hey, dude."

"Sorry, I thought I'd be here earlier, I got caught up at the Hell. But I have Chinese in the car!"

"It's cool. I just have to finish with Fluffy here and do some cleaning. Get the gloves, I could use a hand."

Stiles snorts — seriously, how unimaginative you have to be to name your kitten Fluffy? Unless it was bald or something, Stiles could probably name a kitten Fluffy ironically — and grabs a pair of disposable gloves.

"Hold it here. So how was the meeting?"

"Great!" Stiles says, reminding himself not to gesticulate (Scott is the only person who'd trust Stiles to hold anything fragile while he talks). "Derek is actually really good at explaining stuff, we did some sketches, I'll show you later. Derek does this thing when he draws without touching the paper with his hand, you know, so that he doesn't smudge the pencil… Dude, don't give me that look, you and your self-defense boner don't get to judge. Oh my god, is this a needle!"

"Easy, it's a routine vaccination."

"Well does _Fluffy_ know that?"

"Stiles, it's just a kitten."

"Sure. A cute, little creature, completely innocent," Stiles snarks, just as the cute, little creature sinks its cute, little, sharp as hell claws into his hand. "As long as you're not putting a freaking needle in its body!"

"They never even scratch Allison."

"Apparently they're smarter than I thought," mutters Stiles, pushing the kitten back into Scott's hands. "Why can't it be a puppy? Puppies like me better."

***

"So we have places in different sectors, but I said we could hang out before or after the gig."

Stiles and Scott are on the edge of the preserve, sitting on the hood of the jeep, eating rice and chicken with their fingers, and Stiles has already told Scott about pretty much everything that happened that day.

"Isn't it a little bit weird?" Scott asks. "To spend time with your architect? And his family?"

"It's only four of them, that's, like, not even twenty percent of the family! And they're pretty awesome. And, really, it's no weirder than the fact I'm going there with Jackson."

Scott huffs a laugh into his takeout box. "Still can't believe you're going with Jackson. Here I thought I was your best friend," he says, pretending to pout.

"Please, you don't even like Macklemore."

Scott grins. "Yeah, but I will never ever stop mocking every time you do something with Jackson."

"I even mock _myself_ about it. We're never gonna get used to it, are we?" (They are so totally used to it.) "I'm just wondering when it's gonna stop being hilarious. And then I think about Jackson singing with the crowd, have I told you about when I heard him singing in the shower at Lydia's?" 

That day Stiles just came to... He doesn't even remember why he was there, just that he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he heard it. "Is it...?" he asked, incredulous, and Lydia nodded, completely unfazed. "Does he always...?"

"Yeah," she said, with a little smile, and Stiles almost managed to put his whole fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Five minutes later, when Jackson emerged from the bathroom, with damp hair and a towel around his hips, Stiles managed to look completely innocuous. For about two seconds.

"Yes, you told me," Scott says now. "You even threatened to send me a recording."

"I'm saving it for when you're having a bad day. God knows it doesn't happen often, but when it does, I will be ready. I will take some pictures at the gig, too, Jackson under a sign- dude! We totally have to make a sign! A huge one, I'll make Jackson hold a half of it. Lydia will help to make it and then he won't be able to say no!"

Scott laughs. "Sure! I will even help if it means Jackson will have to hold it."

"Do you still have the glitter we used at Danny's birthday?"

"I think so. Bringing out the big guns, huh?"

"He won't be able to get it out of his hair for _weeks._ " Stiles won't be able to, either, but he isn't bothered. "Laura and Peter will totally have a sign, too. Maybe they'll make Derek do it. He'll think it's ridiculous but still make a freaking sculpture in 3D or something, so we need all the glitter we can get."

Scott shakes his head fondly. "So, this guy, Peter, you said he's an accountant?"

“Yeah, why?

“I just remember you saying that accountants were, like, the most boring people in the universe." Stiles raises his eyebrows, because he recalls no such thing. "Uncle Ben? We were eight or something. Dad banned you from dessert after that.”

“Hey, I remember! And you gave me half of yours!”

“You’re my best friend, what do you think.”

“I know, but dude, we were eight and it was your mom’s famous chocolate pie. I know adults who aren't capable of this level of altruism.”

Scott beams up at him and then grabs a handful of prawn crackers from Stiles' box. 

"Hey!" Stiles cries, batting at him. "Traitor!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen Stiles' (or rather, Dylan's) patented Special Triple Eyeroll, [here you go](http://ka212.tumblr.com/post/44374606926/okay-so-dereks-eyeroll-doesnt-even-compare-to), it truly is a thing of art.
> 
> By the way, here is a true story of how Peter ended up tripping on his shoelace. Peter, surprise surprise, was being a total menance, and we'd been trying to write him for ages, with no results.  
> Us: Fucking Peter, what, how, why can't we write him already! How about he trips over his shoelace on the way to Hell of the House and falls and hits his head on the pavement and dies?  
> Us: Actually…
> 
> Also, it turns out that whenever we are stuck writing, Aev demands more Jackson, whether or not the situation calls for it, and somehow Jackson always manages to get us through the scene. Who would have thought?

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find us on Tumblr: [Aev](http://aeveenien.tumblr.com) and [Ka](http://ka212.tumblr.com). Come and say hi. Or not.


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